“You… you will?” I whispered, searching his face.
“Oh yes,” he said with a flash of teeth. “But it will come at a price.”
“Anything you want,” I said quickly, the words tumbling from my lips like a lifeline. “Just name it.”
Raul chuckled darkly. “Careful what you promise. I intend to collect.”
I hesitated. Balthazar’s threat rang in my ears like a war drum—If you ever open your legs to another, I will kill you.
But then I remembered the gleam in Balthazar’s eyes when he locked me in that godforsaken room before running off on his own.
Try it, my lord,I thought.Try to murder me.
“If it’s sex you want,” I whispered, stepping closer, “I shall accommodate you.”
Raul’s eyes darkened—not with desire, but something colder, more cutting.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said disdainfully. “I have a wife. A son of sixteen. What kind of respectable man would I be if I betrayed them for a whore of shadows?”
I froze, then began to circle him, each step feline. Dangerous.
“You, my sweet,” I purred, “were never anything close to respectable. Not as I remember.”
I brushed my hand across the front of his trousers, delighting at the rigid heat I found there.
“Or is this merely hot iron,” I whispered, “left there by the blacksmith’s hand for safekeeping?”
He seized my wrist, halting my touch—but not before a dark, husky laugh rumbled from his chest.
“What a wicked spell you weave, my venomous snake.”
“Let me keep weaving,” I murmured, “and you’ll forget you ever doubted me.”
With a furtive glance over his shoulder, Raul dragged me into the barn.
The moment my back hit the hay, a flood of unwelcome memories rushed up—memories I buried deep. But I bit them off and gave Raul what he wanted. I gave him more than he deserved. Because this wasn’t about pleasure, it was about power. Purpose. Survival.
When it was over, Raul pulled away, straightening his clothes with mechanical precision.
“You’ll stay behind,” he hissed, not meeting my eyes. “I’ll go first. I won’t have gossipmongers disturbing my peace. Come to the back door in thirty minutes.”
“But—” I began, the bitter taste of regret already forming on my tongue. He was treating me like a common whore.
He silenced me with a kiss—deep, possessive, final—then disappeared through the barn doors without a word.
I stayed there a while, plucking hay from my hair, cursing the choices that had led me back to Raul Costa.
Nearly an hour later, I sauntered to the front door and rang the iron knocker gripped in the lion’s mouth. It echoed with a deep, hollow clang.
The door swung open.
Raul stood in the threshold, his expression carved from stone.
“I said thirty minutes,” he hissed. “And thebackdoor.”
“I have no timepiece,” I said sweetly, batting my lashes. “And I was in such a daze from earlier... I didn’t quite memorize your instructions.”
I smiled, sugary. He could sneer all he liked—he’d fucked me like he used to. Wildly. Hungrily.
